Video Girl? I?
by Ukyou Kuonji
Summary: More Ranma than VGAi. Ukyou is chosen as a possible video girl... but why would she be chosen? And why would she accept? Unfinished
1. Default Chapter

*shhhkk*ling-a-ling*  
  
"Welcome to the Ucchan! Oh, hey there... the usual, right?"  
  
I hate my life.  
  
*sszzzlkrlk*  
  
"So... how've things been between you and...?"  
  
I probably shouldn't. I'm certainly doing well enough here; the money   
you can clear over lunch hour is just outstanding here.  
  
*shff-shff-shff*sszzz*  
  
"She told you that? Wonderful... I'm happy for you, sugar."  
  
And I'm respected not just for my food; people come here to talk, to   
unburden their souls. Hey - high school kids are (supposed to be)   
too young to drink, and most of us can't afford shrinks. So they   
come to the Ucchan with their problems.  
  
*fwp*kksszz*  
*fwp*kksszz*  
  
"Well, shoot, honey... if that's whatcha think of her, why the heck   
don'tcha up and tell her? Worst she can do is say no, y'know. And   
if she's gonna be all high-mucki-mucki like that, y'don't need her,   
anyway."  
  
Yup. Nerima's Advice to the Lovelorn. That's me... good old Ucchan.  
  
*whp*whp*chink*  
  
"Look, sugar... if he's gonna be like that, showin' him the door's not   
good enough for him. If I were you, I'd send him right out the window.   
And if I weren't worried about the property damage involved, I wouldn't   
even open it first."  
  
Never pulling my punches, always speaking my mind. Reliable, trust-  
worthy, and steady as a rock.  
  
*hsss*whoomph!* "Kyaah!!"  
"Look out, gang... back away..." *clik*fwooosh*  
"All right, show's over... damn, so much for *that* one..."  
  
But what the hell good does it ever do me?  
  
No one ever even flirts with me... they know I'm taken. And *he*   
never flirts with me - not that he even knows *how* - I know *he*'s   
taken.  
  
And sure, my customers are loyal... they won't even leave their seats   
for a fire on the grill. But if I started in on my own troubles after   
listening to theirs, I bet the Ucchan would clear out like the whole   
place were going up in flames.  
  
I am going up in flames, here. It hurts so bad, I bet I could pour   
batter on my naked chest and cook an okonomi-yaki on it. No, I am   
*not* gonna demonstrate... perverts.  
  
See? Everybody wants something from me...  
  
I don't know where I heard it, but there's this story about this guy   
who's really depressed. His shrink tries everything to snap him outta   
his funk, until it hits him. There's this clown who performs every   
day in the town square. *Everybody* who watched him would bust into   
laughter - they just couldn't help it. If anyone could cheer this guy   
up, it was that clown.  
  
Betcha know the story... the guy WAS that clown.  
  
Well, I know exactly how he feels.  
  
All I need is the greasepaint.  



	2. episode 1. The Invisible Girl

===============  
VIDEO GIRL? I?  
A Ranma 1/2-Video Girl Ai fusion  
by Ukyou Kuonji  
===============  
Ranma 1/2 is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi  
Video Girl Ai is the creation of Masakaza Katsura  
No permission requested, no infringement intended  
===============  
  
episode 1: The Invisible Girl  
  
Ukyou Kuonji never claimed to be a ninja. Sure, those throwing spatulas of hers functioned just like shurikan, but that was a technique of her own devising rather than some ancient ninjitsu trick. She had never received any formal training in the martial arts, and there was no question that the servile Konatsu would make a lousy teacher.  
  
So Ukyou had no known ability in the ninjitsu arts. But it didn't matter.  
  
Outside of Furinkan or the Ucchan, she was as invisible as any of those fabled fighters.  
  
Now, it wasn't as if she couldn't be seen. She was, after all, a relatively tall girl, and with the pommel of her trademark battle spatula sticking out from behind her head by nearly a foot, she was, by all rights, plenty conspicuous.  
  
But for whatever reason, while people *could* see her, they simply *didn't*. At least, not outside of her appointed haunts. She simply faded into the crowd of shoppers, unrecognizable despite her outward appearance.  
  
Many times, she had to remind herself that her seeming invisibility wasn't out of spite on the world's part. Just like herself, everyone had their own set of cares and worries to be wrapped up in. No one really saw *anyone* else - unless, maybe, they were on the verge of crashing into each other.  
  
There was a bump, and Ukyou's ears registered the sound of packages crashing to the street... sometimes, she murmured to herself, not even then.  
  
She felt a slight breeze; a couple nearly ran into her as they giggled their way out of a kissaten. She turned and watched as they continued on in the direction from whence she had just come.  
  
Yuka and Hiroshi. Two weeks ago, the two of them were barely speaking to each other, over some trivial thing that even Ukyou couldn't remember at the moment. What she *could* remember was the verbal butt-kicking she had to give both of them on their seperate visits to complain about each other. Now they were back together as lovey-dovey as before; maybe even more so. Gosh, it was sickening. And to think, she'd helped them get to where they were.  
  
But they just passed her by like nothing.  
  
It was as if she was thought of like some kind of superhero: once everything was patched up, Ukyou was expected to tip her hat, make a pronouncement along the lines of "My work here is done," and amble off into the sunset without giving her beneficiaries a chance to thank her.  
  
Well, she was no superhero. A little attention would be nice. A thank you, a hug... anything, dammit.  
  
She was starting to consider stripping naked and running screaming through the shopping district, just to see if anyone would notice...  
  
...when she caught the glint of an eye in her direction.  
  
She whirled to face whoever was looking at her, dropping into a defensive stance. It turned out to be a stocky old man inside a video rental shop. He was waving at her, beckoning her to come in.  
  
A voice in the back of her head began to worry whether this was a good idea, but Ukyou ignored it. Someone actually noticed her, even if he *did* look like a cross between Happosai and Wilford Brimley. The voice in the corner of her mind simply sighed - like the rest of her psyche, she'd become used to being ignored. Not that the voice liked it any more than the rest of her did.  
  
***  
  
There *had* been someone inside this place, right? An old man, waving at her, right?  
  
Well, the place was deserted now, for all she could see. Fate was having its little joke on her... again.  
  
She wandered through the rows of shelves full of videotapes. An awful lot of 'adult' titles, it would seem... and right out in the middle of the store, too. Strange... and stranger still that the guy would have thought that she would find this worth her while. On the other hand, she was no stranger to it...  
  
***  
  
"Oi, Kuonji!"  
  
"Hm? Sempai?" Ukyou put down her algebra textbook, and looked up at her burly older classmate as he passed by her open door, waving a beefy handful of videotapes. Tamiya was a gentle soul under that hulking exterior, and was well-liked by the entire dorm. He was going to be sorely missed when he graduated next semester and headed off to Nekomi Technical Institute.  
  
"Puddown dat book and c'mon upstairs, Kuonji. Kurenai's just been dumped - again - and it's our bounden duty t'cheer him up, got it?" Tsubasa Kurenai was a baby-faced kid in Ukyou's class whose rotten luck with women was already reaching legendary proportions, even in his first semester at Kotebuki Boys' School. Tamiya had gotten it into his head to try to mentor the unfortunate youngster in the ways of women and the world. Of course, with Tamiya's 'help'...   
  
"Sure, whatever..." She closed the door on her way out of her dorm room, and scampered after her sempai. "What'ja have in mind to cheer him up with?"  
  
"Hey, we gotta remind him dat dere's plenny of women out dere. Willing women, sexy women..." He waved the handful of tapes so that Ukyou could see them over his shoulder.  
  
Ukyou gulped, and slowed her pace. With Tamiya's 'help,' Kurenai could well become a menace to women everywhere...  
  
***  
  
--{ o/~ boom-chika-boom-bau o/~ }--  
  
"Oooh, baby! Lookit them hooters!"  
  
"Damn! Why the hell do they gotta fog out that bit? Just when it gets good, too!"  
  
Ukyou just sat on a corner of Ootaki-sempai's bed, and stared into her popcorn. She wondered if Kurenai-kun was really feeling any better because of this. Why on earth, she wondered, would something like this cheer a guy up when he'd been dumped? Would watching a great banquet on video be any comfort to a starving man?  
  
Of course, from Ukyou's point of view, it was even less appealing, as it looked like she was supposed to get the sharp end of the stick in this deal. It didn't look like a bit of fun. The girl was screaming and moaning "please stop" and all that, wasn't she?  
  
"Ahh, lemme tell ya whatcher missin'..." and Tamiya launched into a detailed description of an encounter he claimed to have had with a student at a nearby girls' school. He was clearly bluffing; his lack of familiarity with the fogged-out bits was painfully obvious to Ukyou. In fact, she practically had to stick her face into her popcorn to stifle her laughter.  
  
It didn't work. "Awright, Kuonji... whut's so funny?" Busted.  
  
She was gonna have to face the music. "Uh, no disrespect, sempai, but you're pulling these kids' chains, ne? It's not nearly that big, ya know."  
  
"And you would know that *how*?" Now Ootaki-sempai was interested. Oooh boy... what Ukyou would give to be invisible right now. She could feel her face turn red.  
  
"I, ah... touched one..."  
  
"You put your finger in?"  
  
She swallowed hard, and nodded. The fact that she wasn't technically lying didn't make this easier. Rather the contrary - the things she was admitting to in front of all these boys! In the silence that followed her confession, she began to wonder if she was getting a fever... and if the boys could tell.  
  
Suddenly, Ootaki's grin broke wider than usual, and he grabbed her in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles across the top of her head. "You dog! I never thought a pretty-boy like you could be a lady killer! C'mon, spill the beans... who was she? What was it like?"  
  
So... not only hadn't she blown her cover, but she'd even enhanced her reputation as a Man with her admission. She smiled gamely, and tried to wave off any further interrogation. "Hey, hey... I don't want you all going after her... she's mine. Oh, hey... did I just see a bit where the censors forgot to fog over?"  
  
That did it, and everyone's attention was immediately riveted back to the screen, arguing whether a wisp of pubic hair actually got past the fogger. Ukyou sighed heavily in relief, before realizing that one pair of eyes was still resting on her.  
  
Kurenai-kun.  
  
And her days of invisibility at Kotebuki were effectively over.  
  
***  
  
"See anything you like?"  
  
"KYAAAAH!!" Ukyou had been so lost in her memory she had completely forgotten about that strange little old man. From her sudden perch on the top shelf of videos, she cursed herself for letting him get the drop on her so easily.  
  
The old man, for his part was a bit startled at Ukyou's reaction. "Well, I hadn't expected you to wind up on the shelves *that* way, but..." He shrugged and offered his hand to the girl panting from her recent adrenaline rush. "Can I help you? Besides down, that is?"  
  
Ukyou took the old man's hand and leaped down, landing spare millimeters from his foot. She glanced back at the rows of 'adult' videos, and rubbed the back of her neck, embarassed. "Uh... no, I don't think so. I don't rent videos much, and I really don't know what I'm doing here." Especially not in *this* section...  
  
"You came in here because I asked you in," the old man pointed out. "It's so rare anyone ever sees this place..."  
  
"I know the feeling."  
  
"Yes, well... that's another thing. I think you'd make a perfect video girl yourself, if I may say so... would you be interested...?"  
  
The question hung in the air as Ukyou stared at the man, flabbergasted at both his audacity - and his apparant sincerity. His eyes were not greedily sizing up her body, but rather boring into her own eyes with an intensity that grew more and more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. Finally, Ukyou blinked.  
  
"Me? A video girl?" The man nodded. "Why?"  
  
"We know you, Ukyou Kuonji. You are pure in heart, and..."  
  
At this, Ukyou let out a guffaw best described as equine. "Pure in heart, my ass. If I'm so pure in heart, what'm I doing in the adult section, hm?"  
  
"Because it's right in the middle of the store, my dear. These video girls are our main stock-in-trade."  
  
"And why d'ya need someone pure in heart to star in an H-video, anyway?"  
  
The old man's face took on a genuinely puzzled cast. "H-video?"  
  
A hint of exasperation began to creep into Ukyou's voice. "Hentai... y'know?" The old man still looked confused. Geez! The guy was in the *business* and he didn't understand what she was talking about. "'Porno' ring a bell? Believe me, you're not gettin' me in one'a those... and I doubt *anyone* who was truly pure in heart would do them, either."  
  
The old man blinked audibly. "Is that what you think these are?"  
  
Ukyou resisted the impulse to facefault, but only by the slimmest of margins. "It *does* say 'adult', ne?" she asked, jerking her thumb at the category nameplate.  
  
"That's right, and a broken heart is something that only an adult has the wisdom to recognize and fix. The video girls are designed for that purpose, but there are times when we need someone a bit more... *human*... than these," and he gestured at the rows of burikko faces staring cutely back at them from the shelves, "and we know how your heart is willing to share itself with others. It's a gift that should not be wasted. Please."  
  
Ukyou began edging away from the old man. "Uh... yeah. Whatever you say." His eyes would not let her go without an answer, but she did not want to give him the one he wanted.   
  
Finally, she could take no more, and tore her eyes painfully from his. "I gotta go," and she raced for the door. But before she could escape, something slashed past her ear, and her headband fell from her hair, sliced through cleanly by...  
  
"My card. Consider our offer, please." The tone was still gentle, and distant. Obviously, the old man had not moved from the center of the store. How had he managed to throw that card like that? Her eyes darting around nervously, Ukyou pushed open the door, and ran off as if her life depended on it.  
  
The little voice in the corner of her mind couldn't resist an 'I told you so,' followed by a warning that all the running in the world would probably do her no good. But once again, the voice went unheeded, drowned out by the sound of Ukyou's own footsteps.  
  
===========  
  
This did NOT turn out the way I'd planned it. It's gonna need some help, if anyone's willing... I don't like what it's turned out to be, but I don't know what to do with it. Any recommendations?  
  
Otherwise, the tone's gonna change rather abruptly in episode two...  
  
Itsu mo,  
Ucchan ^_^  



	3. episode 2. Stranger in Paradise

episode 2: Stranger in Paradise  
  
Konatsu turned the card over and over between his fingers. *This* was what had the Mistress so rattled?  
  
That afternoon, Ukyou-sama had charged, wild-eyed and dishevelled, into the Ucchan, darted upstairs to her apartment, and locked herself in, leaving Konatsu to tend to the customers himself. Which was all right with him: he'd intended to let the Mistress take the whole day off to go shopping, and she had come back much earlier than he'd expected, so it wasn't as if he'd been left in the lurch.  
  
But the way she'd come home... clearly, she had gotten neither rest nor relaxation from her time off, and her kunoichi was concerned. He was going to have to pay a visit to this place... Gokuraku, was it? and find out what happened.  
  
He turned the name over in his mind, much as his fingers absently continued to turn over the business card the Mistress had dropped in her rush upstairs. Gokuraku... Paradise. The kunoichi snorted quietly, a truly strange sound to those nearby who heard it. More like Hell, judging from the Mistress. Still, he didn't worry about the prospect of visiting such a place.  
  
After all, in his days working at the Sexy Ninja Teahouse, he'd seen his stepsisters naked. There are certain terrors even Hell can't match.  
  
***  
  
The way of the ninja, a fabled legacy of old Japan, is a dying art in its homeland, and it's not that hard to see why. The province of the ninja, after all, is darkness and silence, and there's precious little of that left in hyper-urbanized Japan. So Konatsu was feeling understandably silly, standing in front of the Gokuraku video store that night, bathed in the crisp mercury vapor of the streetlight behind him, and blinking owlishly in the face of the store's own neon and flourescent lights. He may have been swathed in the traditional black garments of the ninja, but he might as well have had a spotlight on him.  
  
He pushed back the cowl of his cloak, and unwound the wrappings that concealed his face. Stealth was pointless in a place like this. Besides, the blazing lights of the Gokuraku suggested that the place was open for business; while he would have preferred to confront the owner outside of business hours, this would have to do. Besides, at least this way there was guaranteed to be *someone* to confront.  
  
*rattle-rattle* Assuming the door would open, that is. Now, why in heaven's name would they leave the lights burning so furiously if the place were closed and locked up for the night?  
  
Konatsu decided not to dwell on the question; he'd planned to slip in quietly after hours, anyway. The lights just made it that much more of a challenge. Crouching by the door, he brought out a thin wire from the folds of his outfit. Carefully, he eased the wire into the lock, jiggled it around a bit, and leaned on the door...  
  
...which practically flew open, propelling him into the shop. He landed on his hands and knees, staring at the carpet... and at a white hair ribbon, neatly cut in two pieces, along with a number of strands of chestnut hair. The Mistress' hair.  
  
After standing up and brushing himself off, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed his inelegant entrance. There was no one. The place was clean, well-lit... and deserted. Only the rows and rows of video tapes stared at him accusingly as he prowled his way through the store. He *knew* it was only his imagination, but he could swear he could feel the pictures on the tapes watching him. He could hear the girls breathing in the stillness of the empty store, and was starting to understand what Mistress Ukyou had found so unnerving about the place.  
  
"May I help you?" With that, an alarmed Konatsu suddenly found himself instinctively clutching the nearest ceiling-mounted flourescent light, while an old man looked up in no small astonishment and chagrin.  
  
"You're the second customer today that's done that, more or less. I suppose I really should try to give our customers a little more warning. Need help getting down?"  
  
By way of reply, Konatsu let go of the light, flipped himself over like a cat, and landed silently on his feet. More intrigued than frightened by the old man's sudden appearance, he asked, "What clan are you from, sir?"  
  
"Clan?"  
  
"Yes... you *are* from a ninja clan, aren't you? There's no way you could have sneaked up on me like that unless you were trained in the Art..."  
  
At this, the old man laughed; a hearty, good-natured laugh. "No, my dear girl, I'm no ninja." He patted his stomach as his smile faded to a rueful grin. "I'm in no shape to be a martial artist of any sort, really. But I have been able to do some rather amazing things since we set up shop in this location. Maybe it's the water..."  
  
"Amazing... things?" Konatsu doubted anything could surprise him, even less so from such an unprepossessing old fellow, but was quite curious.  
  
"Well... like this." The old man's face was somewhat perplexed, as if he still was unable to believe it himself, as he produced a business card. Placing it between his thumb and index finger, he flipped his wrist and sent the card spinning across the room, to land with a thunk into the opposite wall...  
  
... where it was now embedded nearly a centimeter deep.  
  
The kunoichi's eyes went wide, and his gaze dropped to the hair ribbon in his hand. "So, that's what terrified the Mistress..."  
  
"Mistress? She's your... 'mistress'...?" Konatsu nodded, slowly. "So... you must be Konatsu." He chuckled. "And to think, I called you a girl earlier, didn't I?"  
  
"You... know *me*?"  
  
"We know much here, young *man*." The proprietor put special emphasis on the word 'man', as if to correct his previous error. "We know you and your, ah... 'mistress'... are pure of heart, otherwise you would not be able to find this store." The old man peered intently at Konatsu. "You more than her, I believe, but that's beside the point." The kunoichi had no response to that remark, so the man continued. "You see, I and my... business partner... have had a bit of a falling out. He has gone his way, and I mine."  
  
The old man shook his head in mild dismay. "Though what he was doing in this business in the first place, I have no idea. He just didn't understand..." His voice trailed off, staring out into space. After a moment of silence, he shook himself. "Terribly sorry about that. I suppose you're wondering where you and your... ah... 'mistress'... figure into all this."  
  
The kunoichi nodded, and the old man gazed at Konatsu, chuckling ruefully. "Remarkable... really quite a pity...  
  
"All right, well... our stock-in-trade is in video girls. Comfort for the broken-hearted. But not just any broken heart, mind you. Ours are for the noble heart that weeps for another's wounds despite its own grevious injuries. Otherwise, well... things would turn out pretty much the way your, ah..." Despite the repetitions, the word was clearly no easier for him to say.  
  
Konatsu decided to offer him an out. "You may call her Ukyou..." he barely resisted adding '-sama' at the end, "if you prefer."  
  
"Yes... Ukyou. Thank you. I'm sure she thought she was being offered a job as a porn actress. And of course she's not that kind of girl. She wouldn't have been able to find us if she were, you understand. That was nothing like what I was asking of her.  
  
"You see, my problem is that the Gokuraku is a bit strapped for," and he paused, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if the word he was searching for could be found burrowed in one of the holes in the acoustic tile, "new talent. My partner was the one who would create the girls. Brilliant fellow... a creative genius, he was. Trouble was, he insisted on building gorgeous creatures with no humanity, and therefore no understanding of human suffering." Another rueful shake of the head. "What was he thinking? How do you solve a problem you don't understand...?  
  
"I'm sorry... I keep wandering from the topic, don't I?" The kunoichi merely offered a weak grin and a shrug.   
  
"The thing is, I'm not a designer. I can't just *create* video girls. Besides, those computer creations were cold and unfeeling, when you got down to it - by design." Again, he shook his head a moment before continuing. "What I *can* do is construct one from a living, human template.  
  
"Your... Ukyou... fits the bill. She's not perfect, but she does try. That's all I ask."  
  
Konatsu remained silent for a considerable length of time, to the point where the old man's face fell. "I see. Well, it was worth asking, I suppose. You and your, ah... mistress... have my humblest apologies for causing you such trouble..." and he turned to go.  
  
The kunoichi blinked. "No... wait..."  
  
The old man stopped and turned back to face Konatsu. His face was etched with sadness, but there was a light in his eyes that spoke of hope. Hope in the good news that the kunoichi's next words might bring.  
  
Konatsu could not bear to disappoint the man. There was a feeling, in the furthest reaches of his mind, that there would be grave consequences were he to do so. But he was powerless to offer any guarantees. "I... I will talk with my Mistress... and see if I can persuade her..."  
  
The hope sprung from the old man's eyes, and spread across his face. "Thank you, my boy. But you needn't talk to her if that makes you feel uncomfortable. Here..." and in his extended hand was a videotape, wrapped in kraft paper, and addressed and stamped as though it had been mailed to the Ucchan. "Just tell her that this arrived for her."  
  
"B-but..."  
  
"Don't mention the mail. Just tell her it arrived. That it arrived with you is irrelevent."  
  
Konatsu blinked several times. "How do I make sure she watches it?"  
  
The old man's smile grew broader with every second. "Oh, she will. Don't worry about that."  
  
==========  
  
Looks like I'm violating the cardinal rule of fiction in this chapter: show, don't tell. All this exposition is pretty dull, and I apologize. I'm considering getting Rolex (the aforementioned partner) into the mix eventually, and I hope this tape manages to plausibly persuade me to join up (why is the old man so confident, anyway?)  
  
Special thanks go out to DF Roeder for believing in this project and encouraging me after the disasterous turn the first chapter took. I hope chapter three doesn't prove to be so difficult.  
  
Itsu mo,  
Ucchan ^_^  
  



	4. episode 3. Memories of Me

episode 3: Memories of Me  
  
Ukyou lay on her futon, curled up in a fetal position, trembling. So many times during her self-imposed exile from femininity, she had dreams of being discovered. Nightmares, really... like the old standard one of finding herself naked in class. Only, in her situation, that was more than a simple case of embarrassment...  
  
...it was an invitation to expulsion, or worse, gang rape.  
  
And yet, when Ranma had found out her secret, it hadn't been like her nightmares. Apart from dumping a kettle of hot water on her, he hadn't tried any funny stuff. Suddenly, it was 'good ol' Ucchan' again.  
  
And her nightmares of being discovered became dreams. Dreams that one day, Ranchan would see her as a *woman*, not just a friend.  
  
But he hadn't yet. And the people who *had*...  
  
...she shook violently...  
  
***  
  
They sat next to each other in class. They were required to.  
  
"Kuonji-kun." "Present."  
  
"Kurenai-kun." "Here, sir."  
  
Alphabetic. It was the logical way for teachers to arrange the class. And as a result, Ukyou found herself sitting next to Kurenai-kun as a matter of course. Not that it ever was a big deal: Tsubasa seemed the shy, mousy type, and Ukyou kept to herself for her own reasons, so they never had much to say to each other.  
  
But now...  
  
"Hsst! Kuonji-kun!"  
  
"Tsubasa? What is it?"  
  
WHAK! "Gentlemen, if this discussion is not germane to our studies of feudal Japan, I suggest you take it outside. I assume you know where the buckets are?"  
  
***  
  
"Thanks heaps, Tsu-chan." Sarcasm was dripping from Ukyou's voice.  
  
"Well, you had this class sewn up, anyway. I don't know what you're so upset about."  
  
"Whatever. So, what was so damn important you had to risk getting us tossed out here on bucket duty, anyway?"  
  
"Well..." and the boy looked down at each of the buckets he was holding, as if the combined power of his reflections would give him sufficient support to broach the subject.  
  
Meanwhile, Ukyou was getting impatient. "Yeah? Well what?"  
  
The question was nearly inaudible: "What's it like, Ukyou-kun?"  
  
"What's... *what*... like, Tsu-chan?" There was a nagging voice in the back of Ukyou's head telling her she knew full *well* what Tsubasa was talking about, but she didn't want to believe it.  
  
Tsubasa had turned nearly crimson by this point, and was staring at the floor as he spoke. "You know... last night, when you said... you'd... you'd..."  
  
"I'd *what*? Spit it out, kiddo." The bravado in her voice was false, but she hoped Tsubasa was sufficiently nervous himself not to notice.  
  
"You'd... done it. You know... with a girl."  
  
"Eh..." The voice in the corner of her mind was dancing around and singing 'toldja so, toldja so.' The rest of her mind was wondering who she could get to beat that voice into *quiet* submission.  
  
There was the sound of a drop landing in one of Tsubasa's buckets. "Mari-chan... she said I wasn't man enough for her. That I could *never* be man enough to satisfy her..." He turned to face Ukyou, eyes brimming with tears. "How did *you* manage to satisfy her?"  
  
Ukyou took a step away from Kurenai-kun. "Uh... now, hold on... every girl's different and all that..." the smaller boy's face fell, "...and, uh... I don't know anything about your Mari or nothin'...  
  
"uh... whaddya mean, said you weren't man enough?"  
  
Tsubasa turned to stare up into Ukyou's face. "Look at me, Ukyou-kun. Look. Down. At. Me. What girl's gonna go for a guy so little...?" He dropped his gaze again, this time straight down. "I'm not big enough to please anyone..."  
  
Ukyou looked aghast. "You mean you showed her your...?"  
  
A mirthless laugh escaped Tsubasa's lips. For a moment, Ukyou felt relief, assuming that Kurenai-kun was on the road to recovery if he could laugh at the situation. "Not hardly. If only I could have gotten so far. All I managed to do was ask if she was free tomorrow... and she told me I was too short for her. But *I* know..."  
  
So did Ukyou. She had her ways of changing in private after gym classes, but she'd seen just about every one of the other boys naked at some time or another. Her cheeks turning a deep red, she spoke: "So what does this have to do with me?"  
  
Tsubasa gave her a look that suggested Ukyou had to be one of the dumbest boys he'd ever met. "You'd know how to satisfy her. I want you to teach me."  
  
"WHAT??!!"  
  
One of the classroom windows shunted open. "Kuonji-kun, one more outburst like that, and you'll be on cleanup duty tonight instead of Moteuchi-kun. Understood?" Ukyou didn't even get the chance to respond as the teacher closed the window with a loud bang. She stared numbly at the window for some time before turning back to Tsubasa...  
  
...who was still looking up at her expectantly. "Good grief, you're serious."  
  
"Would I have asked if I wasn't?"  
  
"Shit. How to please a woman, huh? And you think I can give you pointers?" The boy nodded. "Hoo boy. I dunno what to tell you, Kurenai. I mean, you seem like a nice enough guy and all... maybe you're already trying too hard."  
  
Tsubasa's face faded into confusion. "Too hard...?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. I've seen girls fall for jerks that didn't seem to know they exist. Maybe even *because* the guy didn't know they existed. I mean, here you are, making noise, chasing after the girl... that's a real turn-off. At least, I think so... I really don't know how a girl's mind works, either." She just barely resisted adding "any more" at the end of that phrase.  
  
"Yeah, but if I *don't* make noise, they won't even notice me," the boy sighed. "I can't change that. I just want to prove her wrong. Can you show me how?"  
  
Ukyou looked down into the boy's eyes. He was practically on the verge of tears. She *could* show him... so wasn't it her duty to do so? She sighed heavily.  
  
"Fine. Meet me at my dorm at about eight. I'll see what I can do for you."  
  
***  
  
The sun was setting as Ukyou trudged through town, wondering what to do next. Why the hell had she agreed to this? Sure, she had exactly the knowledge Tsubasa wanted. And there was that whole code of the martial artist to help the weak... if anyone seemed to fit the bill, it was Kurenai-kun.  
  
But how in the world to present it to him without destroying both of them in the process?  
  
"Omigod! Ukyou-chériè!" Uh-oh...  
  
When Ukyou had renounced her femininity so many years ago, she had donned a disguise that ensured that no man - well, no *straight* man - would consider approaching her. The drawback to this, however, was that she attracted a lot of female admirers along the way. It helped to hole up in the all-boys school she attended, but there were some girls that would *not* be put off...  
  
*gallop-gallop-gallop* "Mon chér!" *pkkt* "Oof!"  
  
Aiko Onani was of this sort. Perhaps it came from being cloistered herself in an all-girls Catholic school like Notre Dame du Carpentier (which some local wags dubbed St.Kerin's), perhaps she had a fetish for the bishonen type that Ukyou certainly fit into, perhaps she was just going through an extreme phase of boy-craziness.  
  
Whatever the reason, she was a major pain in the neck. And at the moment, the back as well. "Aiko... get the hell offa me!"  
  
Dutifully, the girl released her grip around Ukyou's neck, but slid only a few inches down the length of her battle spatula, stopping at the point where the hilt met the face. "Aw, Ukyou-chér, you're so mean!" she cried, bouncing against the hilt with each syllable.  
  
Ukyou reached over her shoulder and grabbed the pommel of her spatula. "You don't know *how* mean I can be, Aiko. I said, let go!" She made as if to unsheathe her weapon, and Aiko quickly scrambled off. "THANK you," Ukyou responded coldly.  
  
"Ukyou-chér..."  
  
"Stop calling me that..." Ukyou muttered under her breath. She had long since stopped bothering to actually *ask* Aiko to stop, as it had proven fruitless.  
  
"...why do you treat me so badly? I want to love you, dear Ukyou, and all I ask is for you to let me. Why is that so hard for you?"  
  
"You already know the answer to that, Aiko."  
  
"That's right! Your broken heart!" This only served to encourage the smaller girl. "Let me nurse it back to health, then. I could soothe you in ways that damned harridan could only dream of..."  
  
"*What* damned harridan?"  
  
Aiko blinked at Ukyou in confusion. "Why, the pitiful little fool who broke you heart, of course! Don't let her have the victory of destroying you for all women! Let me help you..."  
  
"Let you help me..." Slowly, an idea formed in Ukyou's mind, her eyes widening as it grew in her mind, sprouting wings and taking flight. "All right... you *can* help me, Aiko. Meet me tonight by the dorms around a quarter to eight, okay? I'll try to see if I can sneak you inside."  
  
Aiko Onani went all starry-eyed. "Do you mean it, mon chéirè?" Ukyou nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral.   
  
"A secret assignation!? Oh, you *do* care about me, my dear!" Aiko flung herself at her perceived darling with sufficient force to knock over a lesser man. As it was, Ukyou barely managed to maintain her footing, but she did stay on her feet. Feeling her paramour buckle slightly, Aiko let go, dropping to the ground and bouncing a number of times in excitement. "Oh, be strong, mon chér... I will come for you, and rescue you from your heartsickness! Until then..." and she leaned over and kissed Ukyou on the cheek.  
  
Ukyou found herself unable to control a furious blush, and the sight of it reduced Aiko to giggles as she turned and bounded off.  
  
***  
  
Ukyou herself was chuckling as she headed back to Kotebuki. "Yes, you *will* come, and you *will* rescue me..." It was not a particularly nice chuckle; it was not a particularly nice plan she had come up with. But it *would* discourage Onani from pursuing her, and it would serve as a perfect object lesson for Kurenai, without running the risk of exposure.  
  
It wasn't nice, but it was perfect.  
  
Ukyou's chuckling grew slightly louder, not quite enough that passersby would stare and back away from her, but enough that they would at least notice her good mood.  
  
***  
  
There was a knock on the door, and Ukyou set down her pencil with a sigh. She checked the clock: it was barely after seven. Oh well, might as well let him in...  
  
"C'mon in Kurenai..."  
  
"How'd you know it was me?"  
  
"Who *else* would it be?" Ukyou kicked herself mentally: her tone was perhaps a bit *too* sour about the whole affair. Tsubasa sat down on the bed, tuning as needed to face Ukyou the whole time as she returned to her desk. 


End file.
